Seek And Ye Shall Find
by LaedieDuske
Summary: One of the boys has gone missing in the middle of a hunt. The re-imagining of my Only By Seeking Shall Ye Find drabble - version 1. Might have a version 2 where the other boy goes missing. This one has Ren, my OFC. UPDATED 8/15/12
1. Chapter 1

**A/N So here's the potential beginning chapter for the expansion of the _Only By Seeking Shall Ye Find_ drabble. I have toyed with who goes missing, but the way I have the story arc in my head it has to be Ren helping to seek. So, to the Ren fans - thank you for your support, I am incredibly grateful to you for welcoming an original character into the mix. For those who don't care for original characters - I apologize and can only assure you she won't be around forever.**

**Warnings for language - it's Dean and Ren after all.**

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I was slipping quietly out the window of the house I had been checking when the accursed thing vibrated in my pocket. Unaccustomed to carrying a cellphone still, I jolted. Losing my grip on the window casing I dropped four feet to the wooden floor below. I landed hard on the point of my left shoulder reawakening the last vestiges of my recent concussion, jarring everything out of focus for a moment and stealing my breath. By the time I could breathe again, the phone had fallen still.

I lay there for another moment wondering what the hell had just happened and the damn thing started vibrating again. I managed an almost normal _hello_ that was not quite normal enough.

"Are you okay? Where are you?" Dean sounded agitated.

"I am just at the end of my list of houses to check. What's going on Dean?" I ignored the first part, working on keeping my breaths even. I was embarrassed and my shoulder and head hurt like hell. He didn't need to know what had happened.

"I can't reach Sam. You're okay?"

"Yeah I'm," a grunt as I hauled myself off the porch floor finally, "fine. What do you mean you can't reach Sam?"

"I mean I called, no answer. I've been calling for twenty minutes. And if you're fine, why didn't you answer your friggin' phone the first time? Isn't that why you got the damn thing, so we could reach you?" Anger masking his worry for Sam, but I was in no mood to play punching bag.

"I fell out a fucking window, Dean. It re-scrambled my brains a bit and I couldn't get enough air into my lungs to say hello the first friggin' time you called."

"You fell - " I knew the teasing would be merciless, I so was _not_ going to let him get that far.

"Stop. You can make fun of me later. Let's meet at the end of Sam's route, we can backtrack and see where it gets us. He might have just stopped for a coffee or something." I knew it was lame, Sam would have to be in a lead bathroom to not have reception, but it was all I had. I ended the call, needing a minute to get the pain and my temper under control.

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They depended heavily on their phones. Navigation, GPS, keeping in contact. I had never had one.

Not until they ganged up on me that is.

A couple of towns before my window pain, we had...lost contact. My concussion was mostly gone by the time I fell out the window and I had planned on removing the stitches in my temple when we got back to the motel the night Sam vanished.

Sam had said I needed a phone so they could find me if needed. I answered that I had not needed to be found, "I knew where I was."

"You don't know where you are _now_." Dean had growled.

I glared at him, but I guess the effect was somewhat dampened by the bloody rag pressed to my temple and the fact that one of my eyes was crossed at any given time.

So after all that drama and then _getting_ me the phone, I found it impossible to believe that Sam would not answer his.

Not for a moment did I believe that.

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I was almost to him by the time he spotted me and stopped his frantic pacing alongside the Impala. I could feel his stare burning holes in me as I looked up and down the street, looking for anything unusual. Before I could say anything he was reaching out to touch me, I reflexively shied away before his hand could land on my left arm. His eyes narrowed and I knew it was too much to hope that he would have just let it go.

"Dude, what the hell? When did you get so touchy?" I snapped.

"You said you fell out a window and you're not moving right. I wanted to make sure you didn't hurt yourself. Did you hit your head again?" Oh. So that's why he had been staring at me. Self-conscious much?

I took a deep breath. We were working a hunt where people were going missing - never to be seen again - and now Sam was missing. Dean was worried about his brother and all I could do was let my concern for my wounded pride bring out my inner bitch. Nice.

Belatedly I realized he had no intention of making fun of me for my graceless move, either, he was actually concerned about me. I marveled once again at the compassionate heart he tried to hide behind his tough-guy exterior and wondered who had broken him so badly that he felt he needed to. I sighed and shook my head in frustration as guilt wormed its way through my gut.

"I'm sorry, Dean." I looked him in the eyes so he could see I meant it, "I'm fine. I landed on my shoulder and it knocked the wind out of me, that's all. When was the last time you spoke with Sam?"

"You're not moving that arm when you walk, lemme see." Long, strong fingers pushed my shirt sleeve out of the way and started expertly checking the joint integrity, "I talked to him around 2, our last scheduled check-in."

"Shit, three hours is -_ ow!_" I tried to jerk away as his fingers found the bruising from the impact with the porch, but he held my arm in place with one hand while continuing to explore with the other. Green eyes watched me carefully, gauging my reactions to determine if I was hiding a more serious injury. I took a deep breath and bit back a scathing comment about him holding a monopoly on that front, "Three hours is a hell of a head start Dean. What do you want to do?"

"I was thinking if we started on opposite ends and worked our way through, see if we can figure out who saw him last - "

"And if the last place he was in, nobody was at home? No. Besides, that would take too much time. I have an idea, though I'm not crazy about it."

"I'm listening."

"We'll need to make a quick trip to pick up a few things..."

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	2. Chapter 2

**A/N I have been given an extra special request to add more _substance_ to this story, instead of just letting it be the let's-whump-Dean-fest that it could easily turn into (as much fun as that is). The gauntlet thrown, the challenge given, I cannot turn away. That means updates might not be as quick as I had been posting with the other fics, hopefully longer chapters and possibly more suspense and detail. So - as much as I hope you all enjoy it, I know not everybody will. Just please try to be constructive with the criticisms, I appreciate and welcome any feedback that helps me become a better writer. Thank you! LD**

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Half an hour later we were back at the motel sifting through purchases and finalizing plans. We suspected once people were grabbed, they were being taken either to the surrounding forest or possibly the foothills of the nearby mountain range. A lot of territory to cover, but the three of us had planned on taking a day or two and each taking a section just like we had split up the interviews. Now all we could do was hope I could pick up a distinctive scent.

"I called a friend of ours, Bobby, to let him know what's happening. If he doesn't hear from us in four days, he'll call in the National Guard." Other Hunters. I couldn't suppress a feeling of dread. If we could not find him in four days and other Hunters had to be called in, my survivability would be dubious at best. But if it meant getting Sam and Dean out, I'd face down that round of Russian Roulette.

Dean was fiddling with the extra long lightweight leash, looking distinctly uncomfortable. He put it down and resumed packing his bag. He would be carrying most of the weapons, the two journals he never seemed to be without as well as a change of clothing for himself and Sam and a few other essentials. "Look...uh...Ren...I've never had a dog before. Hell, I've barely been around any."

I sighed. Again. Wondered how many times we were going to run widdershins around this damn subject. Took a deep breath and tried again. "Dean, I understand that. I also understand you've not been around any therianthropes. At least, probably not any that lived to brag about it." I was packing the extra large canine excursion pack as we talked and ignored the mildly wounded look he turned on me at that comment, "I am not a werewolf. I won't go all feral and stupid on you once I change. Think of it as closer to a shapeshifter, in that I will retain my identity within the other form. I will not be able to talk with you, obviously, but I will still be essentially a human being inside the body. Does that help?"

"Okay, but if you're going to be a human in a furry, four-legged body, why did we need to get dog food?"

Ah. Now I understood the utter confusion.

"Normally when I am in animal form I hunt for what I eat - rabbits, deer, things like that. It's the natural thing to do, it saves carrying things and, hey, it's great exercise. I will not have the time to be hunting and making kills while we're looking for Sam. Even if I did, once I _made_ the kill, the smell of the blood would linger in my nose and throw me off the scent of Sam."

"Okay, but why _dog_ food?"

I had to laugh. Considering some of the things I had seen him shovel into his cast iron gut, the thought of his culinary sensibilities being offended was just about the funniest thing I'd heard in a long time.

"Even though intellectually I will still be a human inside there, the fact remains that the _body_ will be canine. Peanut M&Ms or trail mix won't really do it, would actually make me sick. Hell, the M&Ms would literally kill me. I can toss some dry food into a couple 2-gallon zipper bags and put them in my own pack along with your food and water, extra weapons, the collapsible bowl and whatever else will fit. Less for you to carry."

"What about beef jerky or something?"

"Beef jerky is expensive, and that is for _you_ to eat while we're out there. Look, Dean, I'm not crazy over the idea okay? Kibbles & Bits isn't exactly my idea of fine dining, you can't even imagine how awful that crap tastes when your senses are heightened, but we need to move fast before the trail is cold. My senses will be sharper than the average canine, but even so once a trail goes cold it's gone."

"But - "

"No more, Dean. There are worse things."

Like whatever Sam was going through right then. I knew we were both thinking it, could almost _hear_ Dean thinking it, so I didn't say it.

We were almost done stowing gear into packs and then Q&A time would be over, so I wanted to make sure all of the valid questions were answered. If I could just get him to stop fretting over food long enough, though I supposed that was one way to keep his mind occupied. Dean held up the leash and arched an eyebrow at me.

"Changing forms is catastrophically hard on the body. Once I shift, I won't be able to shift back for awhile without severe consequences. We will need to get to where he disappeared and try to follow the trail. There's something called a leash law." I smirked at him, waiting for the obligatory fetish crack. Turns out he didn't even need to vocalize it, his face said it all.

"Define "catastrophically hard"." He grimaced, knowing he wouldn't like the answer.

I hesitated, not sure if I should try to gloss over the truth or give it to him straight up. It was Dean, though. He would not have asked if he did not want to know. I took a breath and dove off the deep end.

"It's rather like dying and being reborn. Literally. As the body transforms from one shape to another, the bones will break and reset, joints twist and reform, the heart stops beating and starts again as it changes from size and shape to size and shape."

His eyes widened, "So you mean..." he stopped, licking his lips as his face paled. There was something in his eyes I could not identify without using my empathic gift and I did not want to waste the energy for curiosity. He cleared his throat, "So you mean there are times during the shift that you're technically _dead_? Does it _hurt_?" He flinched and I could see his knuckles were white where he was clutching his pack.

Maybe I should have glossed it over, but it was too late for doubt now. I wished I knew what he was thinking.

"Yeah, it does. That's why you're going to wait out here for me to finish shifting in the bathroom."

I could see the thoughts struggling behind his eyes as he watched me double check my pack, I just could not tell what they were. He was having some sort of inner debate, that much was clear. He finally took a deep, measured breath in and let it out.

"So you're going to change forms here before we go and I will sneak you out into the Impala after putting your backpack on you."

"Yep, and I know, feet off the seats! Don't worry, I'll get down on the floorboards in the back." I figured I would say it before he did, knowing how he felt about his "baby" and its "original leather interior".

"Actually," he seemed a little hesitant as he strapped a compact sleeping bag onto his own pack, "I was thinking I could just spread a blanket on the front seat for you. I don't think you'd be very comfortable on the floor back there."

I tried to cover my shock with levity, "Two words Dean: dew claws." I wiggled my thumbs at him and smiled.

"Yeah, well, like you said, it's not going to be just some dumb mutt in there. It'll be you in a mutt suit and I'm sure you'll be careful of my baby's interior. Besides, who knows what's on that floor back there right now and I am _so_ not picking month-old take-out food out of your fur."

I laughed and dug the scissors and tweezers out of the first aid kit so he could remove my stitches for me.

"Okay, you remember what I told you about the shift? I'm going to do it in the tub because there's a clear liquid that is formed between the two skins and is sloughed out. There will be no disgusting "skin" to clean up, not like a shapeshifter, just the clear liquid."

"And, depending on how difficult the transformation is, there may be some blood so don't panic when I rinse the tub. I got it." He tried for irritation but I could tell he was itching to be out the door and the repetitive conversations were helping to keep him grounded while we finished the necessary preparations.

Five minutes later, Dean was walking through the bathroom door to find a grey and black wolf/German shepherd hybrid standing in the tub. I probably should have warned him what he would be seeing, but I figured he'd see the extra large pack I got and do the math. Any way you look at it, it was well worth it to see the look on his face.

He pushed the door open muttering something about cleaning up after fleabags when he spotted my green eyes in a massive head at about his hip level and pressed himself back against the door. I thought for a second he was going to run.

"Uh...Ren? Are you _sure_ you're in there?"

The dizzying change from human to quadruped still not quite settled into my brain, I was momentarily overwhelmed with the urge to laugh. I breathed too deeply too soon and pain lanced through my chest. My eyes reflexively flinched closed as a violent shudder ran through me from nose to tail. Before I could stop it, a whimper tore its way out of me.

"Shit, Ren, are you hurt? Did something happen when you shifted?" His uncertainty instantly forgotten he rushed to the side of the tub and knelt looking into my slitted eyes, resting his hand on my shaggy head. I caught a glimpse of what I had seen in his eyes when we were packing, but still could not decipher it.

Whatever it was intensified when he realized there was actually a considerable amount of blood in the tub. I was thinking about how long Sam had been gone, wanting to get to him as soon as possible, and I rushed the change. Instead of a gradual morph from one form to another I had slammed into this form with the force of a car crash, the rapid change causing increased bleeding. I would be sore for a day or two, but I could not stand the thought of what could be happening to Sam with every moment we were delayed.

Guilt flowed through me and with it came the urge to whine again, since that's what canines do when in distress. I did not want him thinking I was distressed, but I could not exactly just tell him I was fine. So I did the only thing I could think of.

I licked his face like he was my long-lost owner come to save me from the pound and hoped it was enough of a shock to distract him for a moment.


	3. Chapter 3

It worked. He sputtered, cursing and shoving at me. I used the distraction to clamber my shaking body out of the tub and away from him so I could compose myself away from his ever-observant eyes. By the time he had composed himself enough to rinse down the tub, I had managed to remove myself to the other room.

When I passed through the door between the bathroom and the rest of the motel room I could smell a high concentration of Dean's scent. He had been standing outside the slightly-opened door while I shifted and that puzzled me. I swung my muzzle in that direction on the way by - he wasn't just standing there, he had been leaning against the wall just to the side of the door. There was a high concentration where his shoulder leaned, and another where his hip had been pressed to the wall. I filed that away to think about later, when I could think straight.

I could feel the tremors coursing through me as my body tried to catch up to the form I was in. I knew Dean was worried sick about Sam, but I had also been around them enough to have seen that the only one who was allowed to put themselves in danger to save Sam was Dean - at least in Dean's eyes. His instinct to protect people in general (and women specifically, though you'd never get him to admit that) was only overshadowed by his instinct to protect _Sam_.

I had no idea _why_ that impulse was so overpowering but I had seen it in action, had watched him put himself between Sam and just about anything that might cause him harm. Maybe it was a sibling thing.

The water shut off and dragged me from my musings. I shoved myself to my feet and moved toward our packs, relieved to find I was a little steadier on my feet. Steady enough to bluff my way through. I waited patiently for him to clip my pack on so we could scoot out to the car hopefully without being seen.

He came out of the bathroom wiping his hands on a small towel, looking at me as though he could see through to my bones. "You be alright while I load this stuff up and spread a blanket out?"

I yipped quietly, once.

"Once for yes, twice for no huh?" _Yip. _"Okay, that works. At least we'll have something, right?" _Yip._ "I'll be right back." He grabbed the blanket and his pack and moved quickly out the door.

I wondered why he hadn't brought everything out to the car while I was changing. It would have made more sense and it would have gotten us on the road that much faster. I was really hating not being able to communicate.

I stood as he came back into the room, waiting for him to settle my pack onto my back. He picked it up and looked at me, his eyes considering me for a long moment.

"We're just going to the car here, why don't we wait and put this on when we get over there?" I tilted my head, not quite understanding why he was suddenly putting things off. Like loading the car and spreading the blanket, wouldn't it save us time to just put my pack on now? "I'm just thinking if your shoulder is still sore from earlier, the pack is probably not going to be very comfortable for you right now. Why wear it longer than you have to?"

Shit. I had not even thought of that. I probably wouldn't have thought of that until I had it on, and then I would have ignored it.

_Yip._

He made his way to the door and I followed closely behind. When he gave the 'all clear' signal, I bolted for the Impala and dove onto the passenger floorboards through the open door hoping nobody was looking out their windows at that exact moment. There were no angry shouts so I figured we were safe. Dean came out, locked the motel door behind him and casually closed the passenger door on his way to the trunk where he stowed my pack.

He dropped behind the wheel and started the car in one smooth motion, but then sat there for a moment worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He scrubbed a hand roughly over his face and I heard him mutter '_shit'_ before he put the car in gear and headed out of the lot.

"We probably should have grabbed you a regular collar so you don't have to wear the pack the whole time. Do you want to - " _Yip yip_. We had lost enough time already and I could _feel_ the tension pouring off him. I knew what it had cost him to make the offer and I could have hugged him for it. His eyes flicked to me and back to the road, "Are you sure?" _Yip._ "Okay. Now get your ass off the floor, will ya?"

I eased up onto the seat and realized if we ended up sleeping in the car one of us would have to climb in the back. The sheer size of my current form meant even though my back was curved, my hip bones were pressed into the door while my shoulders were snugged up against Dean's hip and my head was nestled in his ribs. He looked down at me with the eyes of a man who is suffering a fatal affront to his dignity.

And then my head was vibrating with the rumbling laugh deep in his chest.

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He eased my pack onto my back, careful with my bruised shoulder. When he asked if it was hurting me I lied through my teeth, literally, and yipped twice. There was no way I was going to let him carry everything.

We were less than half a dozen houses from the end of Sam's list when I picked up his scent. It had faded, but I could still follow it around to where he had stood at the back of the house. The yard in the back was hidden from nearly every angle by a high fence and strategically placed shrubs. There was a solid wooden gate in the fence directly across from the house.

I turned my attention toward the house first. As soon as I did, every instinct told me to turn away. I felt my hackles rise and a low growl trickled out. I sniffed the air, then back to the ground where Sam's scent stopped.

Painted over Sam's trail with a wide brush stroke was another scent. My stomach turned, threatened to rebel completely. It was sickly sweet, like fruit left to rot, but there was an undercurrent of flowers. Fruit left to rot in a dying flower bed. Clinging to it all was the smell of spices I did not want to take the time to sort and catalog. Under it all was the stomach turning scent of death - the death that comes with terror and suffering.

Dean had made his way to the porch and I growled again. We were not going in there. Maybe after we found Sam. Maybe. But whatever was in there was not going to help us find him.

Dean stopped and turned toward me at the second growl. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it again and stood there looking at me.

I took a step back ward without meaning to, and another growl spilled out of my throat before I could even think about it. My heart was slamming into my ribs painfully hard. If I were in human form I would have sworn I was having a panic attack. I could hear myself huffing in short, shallow breaths and I was skating along the cracked edges of hyperventilating.

"I just want to have a look - "

_Yip yip._

"There may be something - "

Two deep, full-voiced barks were born of my near-panicked state. I took another step backward, fully extending the leash between us. He would have to either drag me bodily or let go of the leash if he still wanted to go inside.

He looked at me for a moment. I could see his surprise at my vehement refusal to go in, followed closely by something else. Resignation? Understanding? Irritation?

I did not take the time to examine it too closely because in that moment my conscious brain caught up to what my subconscious had been trying to tell me. I knew what I was smelling. Herbs, oils and plants.

Ingredients used in the mummification process.

Shit.

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**A/N So this chapter gave me some troubles - this is proving to be more challenging than I anticipated. Anyway, I hope I didn't put anyone to sleep here - the next chapter should be a bit faster-paced though I still have some information to toss out there. I am realizing I am much more comfortable with writing action and when I have to share information, I am always afraid of it being too dry. So therein lies my next obstacle to overcome. 'S'why I'm here, right? I won't beg for reviews, but it'd help to know what worked and what didn't if anyone has the time. Thanks!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N I am intentionally leaving some things on the "vague" side. The timeline for this story is not long after Ren has started traveling with them, so after _Winchester Boys And A Little Serendipity_ obviously, but before most of the others like _Moment Of Weakness_ and _Unnatural Things_. Probably if I had to nail it down I'd say this is the second in the set (until I finish the next short I'm working on, then it'll be third), so she's still learning to read the boys and her wounds are probably not quite as healed as she would like to think. I'm curious to know what the readers think, though. Chapters two and three especially there's a lot going on behind those eyes of his, and I know it'll be different for everyone and I'm curious what road you've been lead down by what I've written. So - if you have a few moments to kill - I would be interested to hear. _I_ know what's going on, but _Ren_ doesn't and that disconnect between writer and character can be a bitch.**

**WARNING: This segment contains some images that some may find disturbing. Continue reading at your own risk.**

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Whether I made a noise or maybe he could see me freeze in place, I didn't know. My brain temporarily short-circuited. Dean was off the porch and kneeling in front of me holding my head in his hands before I had fully processed my realization.

Mummification.

"Ren? What is it?" He was trying to catch my eyes with his own and I was sure he was thinking the worst about Sam. Guilt weighed down on me for putting that slight quiver of fear in his voice. Even if I could speak, though, I would not have told him that his worst thoughts paled in comparison to the truth.

If that _was_ what was happening to those who had vanished, why? Corpses could be reanimated, but I did not think they needed to be mummified for that. _Could _a mummified corpse be reanimated, cheesy B-movies notwithstanding? Daemon hosts? Why not just ride a live body like they usually did? What possible purpose could the mummification serve?

That was getting me nowhere, twisting my head around questions that lead to more questions. I turned my brain inside out, trying to remember everything I knew about ritual mummification.

He would be denied food and water for several days so that his system would be purged of everything in it. It would also cause him to lose any water-weight he was carrying which, knowing the Winchesters were both in peak physical condition, would be precious little. It would be enough to loosen his skin slightly for the insertion of the herbal desiccants once he had been opened up and his internal organs removed, though.

It gave us more time to find him but meant he would be suffering, the longer we took the worse he would get. My stomach did a dangerous roll at the thought. The urge to protect them both washed over me, shocking me with the ferocity of it.

I tried desperately to think in detached, clinical terms. The thought of Sam lying covered in blood, his belly and chest open and empty while some lunatic lined him with herbs wormed its way into my imagination despite my best efforts. I knew then that it would be a long time before I could sleep again without that image haunting my nightmares. My eyes squeezed shut and a shudder ran through me, wrenching a whine from my throat.

Dean grabbed the fur along my lower jaw painfully tight and pulled my face up until I opened my eyes and was looking directly into his.

"Ren?" His voice was soft, cautious, his eyes filled with uncertainty underscored with strength and force of will. That one word held so many questions he knew I could not answer, but it was enough to clear my head some and get me back on task.

I lowered my muzzle and bumped his forehead gently with mine, giving a low _whuff_ as I did. Let him translate that however he wanted, but hopeful he would see it for the comfort it was meant to be. I dropped my nose back to the ground and headed for the gate. I heard him take a slow, measured breath as he stood behind me and then followed closely.

I could still smell Sam under the other smells for a few feet, just far enough that I knew we were on the right trail. Where his scent ended I caught the scent of something else.

Blood.

I snuffled around a wide area, but could only track it to one spot. My best guess was that he had struggled and whoever had taken him had knocked him unconscious at that point. It was not a big area of blood, so I took some small comfort that there didn't seem to be enough for him to have been badly hurt.

The gate had a lock on it, but it was not secured. That seemed to confirm my theory that he had been taken out this way. They would not have been able to lock the gate behind them on the way out, only from the inside. Dean had come to the same conclusion.

"Gate's not locked, did he go out this way?" _Yip._ His eyes locked onto mine, "Did he go out this way on his own?" _Yip yip._ "Shit. Is he - do you think he's - _dammit_ I hate that we can't just talk," he growled, swiping a hand across his face in frustration.

I dropped my eyes from his, this had been my idea and now I wondered if it wasn't more frustration than it was worth. I could scent and hopefully track Sam, but Dean was half in the dark. He was forced into a position where he had to put his trust in someone he barely knew. Not just his trust, but the well-being of his little brother too. I knew that didn't sit well with him on either count. Dean barely trusted people he knew, and he trusted nobody with Sam's welfare. These simple truths didn't take a long time to figure out.

I could maybe shift back now, but then I would be out of commission for longer than we could spare if I was lucky. I didn't want to think about if I were unlucky.

"Hey." At the sound of his voice I realized I was staring at the ground while my conscience tried to tear me apart. I looked back up into his eyes, "This was still a good idea you had."

It sounded too much like an apology to me, when he hadn't done anything wrong. I huffed out a snort.

I checked the ground and fencing around the gate, but other than the smell of the herbs there was no trace of Sam. If there was no sign of him in here anymore, I would all but guarantee there would be no sign of him I could follow out there either.

I tried to remember if I had ever shifted multiple times in a short period or if I had always heeded the dire warnings that included words like "heart attack", "brain damage", "seizures" and "death".

We still had some daylight left, and I could probably continue to sniff out what I could at the areas we considered prime locations, but maybe I could shift back so we could talk and then shift again in the morning. It was way closer than I had ever tried, but maybe I could get away with it just this once.

"You're not thinking about shifting are you?"

_How the hell does he DO that?_ I thought, though I realized I had stopped moving while lost in thought. Apparently that was enough. I hesitated, not looking at him, then gave sort of a groaning, whining _maybe_.

"Didn't you say it was dangerous to change too soon?" I honestly couldn't remember what words I had used, so I kept my mouth shut. "Forget it. We'll figure out the communication, alright? You killing yourself isn't going to get him back."

I looked up at him, unwilling to make any promises. If it turned out I had to shift early I would do it and deal with the consequences later. He seemed to take my silence as the closest thing to an agreement as he was going to get and he reached out for the gate.

"Wait here a sec, lemme make sure it's clear."

I drew in a breath to growl at him - of the two of us I was currently better equipped for protection duty and even if I wasn't I certainly did not need to be protected by him or anyone else. Before I could voice my indignation, though, he was gone. It occurred to me, and not for the first time, that someone that big just should _not_ move that damn fast.

Half a heartbeat later he was poking his head back around the gate.

"Okay, coast is clear." I stood for a moment, glaring at him. "What?" He looked at me as his eyebrows drew together, confusion written across his face. I huffed out a breath at him and shouldered my way by him and out the gate. He stood looking at me another second, "What'd I do?"

_Lucky I don't bite you in the ass you chauvinist_. I thought, then sighed. That was completely unfair of me and, worse, it was not true. I was letting the tension get to me and I needed to get a grip on it. Part of it was that I could feel his distress, even with my empathic ability reined in. Years of Hunting had taught him to shelve any emotion not useful to the situation when hunting and he was damn good at it.

Except when it came to Sam.

A lifetime of reading others and helping them had made me extra sensitive to the emotions of others, even the "shelved" ones, whether I was trying to or not. So, when he came to stand alongside me outside the gate, I leaned my shoulder into his leg. A canine apology. I sometimes thought Dean might be part dog, too, with his sharp growls and playful, forgiving nature.

The gate opened into an alley that ran the length of the block. Houses on one side, the garages that went with them on the other. As I expected, the alley was a total mess of scents and nearly impossible to discern any one over the others. Car fluids, stray cats and dogs, the occasional raccoon, some scents I did not even want to try to identify. A few scents were achingly familiar but I could not place them, so I filed them away to ponder later. There was just no way for me to pick out anything that might help us identify the vehicle he was taken in.

Except that it would most definitely smell of Sam and those damn herbs and oils. If I could pick up that scent again, I knew I could find him. The question was would we be able to track down where he'd been taken in time to get him out before he was irreparably damaged?

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	5. Chapter 5

**A/N - Sorry for the short chapter here. I've been a bit under the weather and, aside from a couple shorts for the Hoodie_Time prompts and the drabbles, I haven't had much energy to work on much. I wanted to get something up NOW because I'm not sure when I'll be feeling better, though, so it was either this bit I've got done or just some lame-ass note saying "sorry". I'm not done with this by any stretch, I promise, and for those of you who have been so patient and supportive I want to say thank you for hanging in there. **

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We managed to visit three of the sites before stopping for dinner. Dean grimaced as he poured some of the dog food into the collapsible bowl. I tried not to wrinkle my nose at it, at least until I knew he was not looking. He sealed the zipper bag and stored it back in my pack, then moved off to look at the map again.

I growled a warning at him.

When he turned and met my gaze, I sat down away from the bowl.

"I thought you said you'd have to eat that stuff?" _ Yip._ "So what's the problem?" I stared at him pointedly. When he did not get the hint, I looked from the bowl to him. "Ah. I get it. You're on hunger strike until I eat something, is that it?" _Yip._ He sighed. "Look, we both know you can't go without eating."

_Then I guess your stubborn ass better be dragging some jerky out of my pack, right?_ I thought as I sat perfectly still and stared at him. I had no memory of telling him I need to eat more frequently than a human to accommodate my higher metabolism, but I figured it must have been something that came out while I was feverish - after they had saved my life. Maybe someday I would ask about the stretch of time I had lost there.

Maybe not.

The claw marks on my stomach were mostly healed, but things still pulled painfully when I moved wrong. A daily reminder of what had happened. Of course, looking in the mirror would always carry a reminder - the claws torn across my face in order to scar, to brand me forever. Dean had done a better job than I ever could have hoped when he stitched my face back together, keeping the stitches small and tight so the scars were thinner and less noticeable. Far from invisible, but nowhere near as bad as they might have been. As they were intended to be.

I vaguely remembered Dean mentioning that Sam was researching therianthropes while I was out of it with fever, trying to figure out how best to take care of me. There was no doubt in my mind that Dean had done his share of research as well, not that he would admit to it. Maybe that's how they knew about my metabolism. I pulled my thoughts back to the present with a twinge in my heart, thinking of Sam.

Dean and Sam had done so much to help me, to take care of me when I was injured, I felt like I had let them both down somehow. Failed to protect them from this. On one level, I knew neither of them needed protection, but something in me wanted to try anyway.

Grumbling under his breath, Dean finally relented and dragged some jerky and M&Ms out of my pack. I thought I caught the words _stubborn_ and _pig-headed_, but concentrated on not moving a muscle until he was finished in the pack and was actually munching on something. I knew my body language was difficult to interpret in the canine form and I did not want him thinking I was gloating. I just wanted him to eat something.

My thoughts drifted back to Sam. At 6'4" and somewhere in the vicinity of 200 pounds of lanky muscle, there was no way he was taken by just one person. So we were either looking for someone who was more than human, or more than one human. I did not really want to think of any other alternatives, so I focused on those two scenarios.

Maybe he'd been taken by one who had been mummified themselves? I was not sure if that were possible, I did not know enough about mummies to know their strengths or weaknesses. If the movies were any indication, then mummies usually possessed superhuman strength. But then, how often were the movies a good point of reference for this sort of thing?

If legends and myths are based on fact, then perhaps it was at least partially true?

But then again, if he were taken by more than one human, maybe he was the first to be subjected to the mummification process? If that were true, though, what about the others who had vanished?

It was far more likely that they had been either experimented on or had successfully been through the process. Would they be capable of driving and kidnapping the next victims?

"Hey," Dean's voice, way closer than I last noticed him, startled me out of my thoughts. I blinked and looked up at him standing right beside me, "I don't know where you just went, but you need to eat so we can go." I could feel the tension humming through his body, but his voice was still gentle. I couldn't suppress a sigh as I stood and tried to shake off the melancholy.

My stomach was tying itself into knots and I wasn't sure if the food would even stay down, but I dipped my head into the bowl anyway. Dean had enough to worry about without worrying about me too. I ate as quickly as I dared, Dean stood beside me munching his jerky and looking at the map.

"We'll find him," he said softly, and I was not sure if he was trying to reassure me or himself. Probably both.

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By midnight we were at the sixth stop. Dean had asked me a couple times if I wanted to pack it in, knowing I was still sore from my run in with the porch. There was no way I was calling it until he was ready, no way I could deprive him of even a few minutes of searching whether it was fruitless or not.

By the time we got to that sixth stop, though, we were both exhausted. Dean eased the Impala into a parking spot, killed the engine and just sat there for a minute. I watched him from the corner of my eye, pretending to look out the other side of the windshield. I could see the muscle in his jaw twitching in the dim moonlight, could see him gearing himself up for another round of disappointment if we could not find a trace of Sam here.

It broke my heart to see that quiet desperation behind his eyes, to know how afraid he was for Sam but he just kept picking himself up and moving forward. I hoped with every fibre of my being that I could find something soon to give him hope, to take that haunted look out of his eyes and bring back the wicked grin that periodically graced his features.

In that moment, I missed Dean as much as I missed Sam.

He took a deep breath and shoved the door open with the obligatory squeal of hinges that had somehow over time morphed from an annoyance into a comforting sound. I slid out behind him as smoothly as I could but I knew my abused body was not going to take much more. I stumbled a little and covered it by nosing high and low for scents. If Dean noticed, he did not let on.

"Anything?"

I did not have anything yet, but I was not sure I could muster the heart to tell him that. I moved away from him toward where the trail started, the long leash trailing behind me. He waited for me to get a head start and then moved to follow behind me. He had figured out early on that it was easier for me to tune out his scent if he did not stand too close to me and had started hanging back slightly.

An hour and a half later we were back at the Impala, still no sign of Sam. As he settled back behind the wheel, Dean sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Alright, how about we drive over to the next site and sleep for a couple hours? It will be light pretty soon and hopefully a bit warmer." It was not freezing out, but the chill Autumn air was weighing heavier on us both the more tired we got. I gave a grumbling moan, about the most I could muster right then, and laid my head in his lap. He snorted then chuckled and laid his hand on my shaggy head.

He was silent for the rest of the ride. Once we were parked I shifted to stand so one of us could get in the back seat.

"You're fine, " he said, scratching behind my ear, "I'll just grab the sleeping bag and tip my head back here if you're comfortable. It's pretty chilly out there, we might as well stick together for warmth." He reached into the back and deftly snagged the sleeping bag from his pack, draping it across us both and then tilted his head back against the seat.

I drifted for awhile in that realm between awake and asleep, unable to fully unwind and give myself over. I knew Dean was still awake, he was trying to relax but I could feel the stress radiating off him more strongly as time passed. I was not sure he realized he was still scratching the fur between my ears. I was not used to such gentle attention and found myself so focused on it I could not sleep.

"I've been looking after him since we were kids." He spoke softly but the sudden break in the silence startled me badly and I just barely resisted the instinct to jump up. "You told us you are an empath and I can only imagine what you are getting from me through all this."

I wanted to tell him that it takes energy to reach out beyond my protective walls, energy I did not have to spare right then. I wanted to reassure him his secrets were still his own to keep, that all I could read was what he was putting out most strongly, but I had no way. Instead, I whined softly and nuzzled my big head against his chest hoping the contact would help calm him.

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	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thanks to everyone for your patience and understanding. I'm making headway on this - it's ****one of the most difficult stories I've attempted and things have been a bit hectic lately. Not really a good combination, but I'm going to do my best to get myself in gear and finish it up. Warnings for swearing and some graphic imagery, but I think that's it.**

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Dean's eyes were closed and he continued to rub my head as he spoke again. "We lost our mom -" he cleared his throat as his voice broke slightly, "we lost her when we were really young. Our dad started hunting the thing that took her, so he was busy. A lot. It's not really a big deal, except that I've always felt responsible for Sam. Always _been_ responsible for Sam. I don't know how to be anything else."

It was the most open he had been since I had started traveling with the brothers. I was not sure if it was because he was missing Sam, if he was finally comfortable enough with me to open up, or if it had been made easier by me not being in human form at the time. Maybe some combination of all of the above.

It did not matter, though.

All that mattered was the pain in his voice, the sense of loss I felt emanating from him. I could not stand it.

I put one paw on his knee and nuzzled at him until he looked down into my eyes, taking my paw in his hand as he did. As he continued to rub the fur between my ears, I stared into his eyes and reached down into that empathic well inside. I did not have much to offer him at that moment but there was no way I could leave him suffering like that. I pulled what reserves I could together and reached them out to him, blanketing him in emotional comfort and the closest thing to hope I could share with him.

He graced me with a half-smile, "You're gonna find him for me, huh?" _Yip._ He nodded and rested his head back against the seat again. He was dozing fitfully soon after.

Though I was exhausted, sleep was a lot longer coming for me.

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It was almost noon by the time we found the right place, a long and winding trail leading up from what was barely a turn-out off the road. It stretched up the side of one of the higher foothills and might have been daunting if we weren't both so giddy with finally finding the trail before it was lost to my senses.

We should have known it would not be that easy.

As we followed the trail through the rest of the day it became glaringly obvious Sam's abductors either expected to be followed by someone with scenting capabilities or they were flat out crazy as hell. Possibly both.

The scent followed the footpath for some distance, then veered sharply off into the trees, zig-zagging with seemingly no rhyme or reason before finally landing back on the footpath again for awhile again. The third time we diverted widely from the path, Dean's frustration got the better of him.

"For fuck's sake, Ren, can you follow the trail or not?"

It was not a shining moment for either of us. Tired and still sore, I parked my ass on the forest floor, bared my teeth and snarled at him. I lowered my nose to where I had just picked up the smell of the spices again, met his eyes and stomped one foot exactly where the scent was.

"We were on the path twice now." Still staring into his eyes, I loosed a _yip_ that was actually half snarl, half snap. "And now, once again, we're off in East-fucking-Overshoe." I didn't even bother that time. Just stared at him, waiting for him to get it, resisting the nearly overwhelming temptation to just shift back and scream at him which would be so very counter-productive.

Dean finally sighed and scrubbed a hand across his face. "Do you have their trail?" _Yip._ "And they're actually wandering back and forth like this?" His sarcasm was barely contained and it was getting harder to cut him slack. I knew he was frustrated and worried for Sam but, goddammit, I was doing my damn best to help him the only way I knew how. I'd had enough - I yipped at him once more as I turned my back to him and picked the trail up again, moving away from him probably slightly faster than I should have.

It ended up saving his life.

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I found myself back on the trail walking the very edge of the 100 foot vertical drop-off on the opposite side of the trees. I was unsure why they would have carried Sam so close to the edge, so I took an extra couple minutes investigating the treeline for clues and then started to track back to the edge when I found none.

He came from behind me, from downwind of me. I never knew he was there until the massive feline form crashed into my side, knocking the wind out of me as he attached himself to my back. I could feel the burning tear as my barely-healed stomach wounds were wrenched violently. He was cougar-shaped, but larger and heavier than any cougar ever had a right to be. I knew exactly what he was, and it scared the shit out of me.

I felt his three inch canines snapping at my thick hackles, trying to find purchase on my spine to break it. I tried to scrabble to my feet but canine claws do not work the same as feline. I could not get a purchase on the rock or dirt beneath my prone form. It did not help that he outweighed me by a good hundred pounds or more, either.

I tried twisting my head to either side, but could not get clear enough to latch onto his muzzle, or anything else vital for that matter. Snarling, snapping, growling, hissing, his screech in my ears was almost deafening. I realized his front legs were wrapped around my chest and, in a desperate act, flung all my weight to one side to off-balance him. I reached my head down, baring my spine to his snapping jaws and hoping I was just a little faster.

I felt the pads of his paw pass onto my tongue just as his jaws snapped closed on my neck and I bit down with every ounce of strength I could muster, waiting for my body to go dead under his assault.

He screamed and kicked his way off of me, favouring his right front paw. I felt a vicious thrill pass through me as I realized I had hurt him. I was not paralyzed, but I was not sure if I was hurt either. Adrenaline flooded my system when I looked over his shoulder and saw Dean creeping up the trail from downwind of us. His .45 was out and aimed at our party crasher.

Everything seemed to kick into high gear in my head. I could not remember what Dean had loaded into his gun that morning, though I knew that I _knew_ what he had loaded, I just couldn't _think_ past the sheer terror that was screaming in my back-brain. If it was not silver, he would just call attention to himself and piss off the therianthrope currently trying to figure out my weak spot. I thought he probably knew how out of place this creature was, but that did not mean he knew _what_ it was.

I could not let the other 'shifter know Dean was even there. Images of Dean clawed apart and bleeding out joined the images of a gutted Sam to feed my nightmares if I survived this adventure. I felt my hackles rise, heard the bass rumble of the growl pass my lips, saw the shiver pass through Dean at the primal sound as I turned slightly to provide an inviting target. Dean's eyes flew wide as the other 'shifter launched himself at me.

His claws tore into my side as I rolled us toward the edge, intending to kick him off. I was not planning on his claws getting stuck in my side. I had not fully thought through the consequences - until we both cleared the edge and started falling into the abyss.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7  
**

**A/N: I have no excuse. Life sucks and I need to buy a helmet. I'll finish this piece if it kills me...as long as something else doesn't kill me first. As always, in case anyone has forgotten, my stories are set in the early days.**

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In the time I had known them I had often teased Dean about his reflexes. Comments like, "Not bad for a human," and, "Not bad for a girl," had flown back and forth between us.

I had never been so thankful for his nearly superhuman reflexes as I was in that moment when we flew off the edge of the cliff.

I have no idea how he managed to snag the end of the leash. I found my plummet to the death pulled up short, slamming into the rock face of the drop-off hard enough that I saw stars. The other therianthrope's claws sunk deeper into my side as he desperately tried to avoid falling to his own death. I could not stop the breathless yelp of pain as his claws slid easily through my flesh before finally finding and curling around my hip bone.

I could see Dean braced against the far side of a tree, the handle of the long leash looped around letting the trunk take the brunt of our more than 300 pounds of struggling weight. Bracing his left shoulder against the tree, he took careful aim with his right. I tried to hold still but didn't really have much choice in the matter. I was fleetingly grateful that we had not gone to get the regular collar - our combined weight would surely have snapped my neck. As it was, the harness straps on the pack were compressing my ribcage making it difficult to breathe. Right then I was mostly focused on trying not to wriggle against the blinding pain of those claws sunk deep into me, trying to give Dean the best shot possible.

I heard the report of the pearl-handled 1911 echo around me as the _thunk_ of the bullet striking home reverberated through my body. I could not see, but I hoped it was a head or heart shot since I could feel the savage grip around my hip bone loosening. I knew Dean was a hell of a shot, but exhaustion and pain were overwhelming my rational thoughts. I was afraid his claws would not fully retract into his nerveless paws or, worse, that it was not a killing wound. As the seconds ticked by I feared he was only stunned and would start trying for a better grip once he shook it off. It was hard to tell through the pain, but I tried to feel when they had slid free enough that I could maybe kick him off of me. Every instinct was screaming _gethimoffgethimoff_ but if I moved that much weight around for too long I was afraid Dean would lose his grip on the leash.

Or I would pass out from the pain.

The next few seconds felt like years as I felt the claws slowly pulling out. A dousing of tell-tale wet warmth told me he had shifted back to human form, the razor sharp intrusions into my body vanishing suddenly. He was dead.

The extra weight dropped away and suddenly I could breathe a little better. My lungs tried to heave for air as Dean started pulling me up, still using the tree as a brace. I tried to help, to get a purchase on the rocks somehow, but my battered body was not responding to my brain's commands. I felt like a fish flopping around on dry land.

"Take it easy. I've got you, just relax okay? I won't let you fall."

That piece of me that refused to trust anyone, ever, was telling me to keep moving, save myself. Looking into his eyes, though, I could see the conviction behind his words. He had me.

He would not let me fall.

My body was shrieking, I hurt in so many places I could not even sort them out. I gave in and hung limp in the harness, dead weight being easier to maneuver than a flailing body anyway. I could see him shaking with the strain as he hauled me over the lip of the precipice and dropped the leash, running to my side. I let my eyes slide closed as he dropped to his knees beside me, his hands already seeking out my injuries through the thick fur. I would just close them for a minute.

Just for a minute.

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Years of serving as one of the Guardians of my pack had taught me to come awake all at once, lying perfectly still until I scented my surroundings and ascertained the presence or absence of danger. When I found myself drifting on the cusp of consciousness, unable to remember where I was or how I got there, a tendril of fear started to worm its way up my spine. I tried to focus in on just one sense, my hearing. At first all I heard was white noise, but then I became aware of humming near my ear.

Metallica.

Dean.

_Sam_.

It all came rushing back to me and I tried to get my feet under me, before we lost the trail. I had no idea how long had passed since my skydiving attempt, but I could not shrug off the nagging fear that I was already too late.

Dean's voice right in my ear confused me even more, "Take it easy fuzzyface. He missed the artery, but I'm not exactly trained in canine first aid and it took me a minute to get the bleeding stopped. Just lay still for a minute until you get your bearings."

I realized he was laying behind me, one arm cushioning my head, the other wrapped around my chest keeping me from wriggling too much. I was not wearing the pack anymore but I could still feel where the wide straps and sturdy clips had dug into me, like the ghost of what once was. The sleeping bag was spread over us but I did not think it had been that cold out. I nosed at the thick covering and then turned my head to look at him out of the corner of my eye hoping he would understand.

"What is it?" I poked my nose at the blanket again, then looked back to him. "Are you too warm?" I was not entirely sure what I was feeling at that moment, so I gave non-committal grumble and waited again. "You were shivering, I wanted to make sure you didn't go into shock. Like I said, I'm not a vet, but I figured it couldn't hurt to keep following the human rule book."

I lay still for another moment, cataloguing the various damage I had sustained. My neck hurt where the other 'shifter had bitten it but the damage did not seem serious. The semi-healed claw wounds on my stomach ached from the thrashing but that was certainly not life-threatening. My torso would be littered with bruises, but those should heal rather quickly as well. The main thing I was worried about were the four parallel gashes on my side as I slid out from under his arm and the blanket, testing my weight on that hip.

It felt like Muhammed Ali had used my side as a punching bag, then ripped it open with a meat hook and poured boiling acid in it, but the leg held my weight. I could only hope it continued to do so, because the worst was yet to come. I had to tell Dean what I knew.

I had to shift.


	8. Chapter 8

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**Chapter 8:**

**Warning: Swearing - because, you know, Dean and Ren...  
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Dean's voice stopped me in my tracks. "We are going to have ourselves a talk about what just happened, ya know."

I swung my head toward him and blinked slowly. Was it too much to hope that he might forget for a minute that there was a human mind in here? Or that maybe I could keep him sufficiently distracted until he forgot the "talk" he wanted to have? I suspected it would be a bit more lively than that, but nobody says "we gotta have a yell".

Blood loss and shock were making me loopy it seemed. Closing my eyes I reeled my brain back in from left field and then looked up at Dean again.

Oh yes, by the look on his face it was _way_ too much to hope he would forget.

I really did _not_ want to shift. I eased myself back down onto my undamaged side and closing my eyes I rested my head on my paws for a moment, trying to gather strength for the change. I heard Dean's soft steps getting closer and cracked my eyelids open. His gaze was locked onto my blood-stained fur, his expression unguarded for once, and I could see he was not simply pissed - he was worried.

About me.

I was not really sure what to do with that any more than I had been beside the car when he checked my shoulder.

He crouched down beside me, reaching out to carefully part my fur and check my injuries again. Some of the fur had been trapped in the dried blood in the wounds. I flinched when they pulled loose and Dean absently stroked my flank with one hand, quietly murmuring an apology as he continued to examine with the other hand. His eyebrows drawn together in concentration, he winced in sympathy as he assessed the damage. "You're going to be sore for a few days at least, these look more like tears than clean slices. It looks like you're bruising pretty bad down by your hip, too." I grumbled an acknowledgement and moved, using my head to nudge him away. I could see his uncertainty, but he reluctantly moved away.

I closed my eyes again and breathed as deeply as I could. Knowing he was standing there watching as I shifted forms seemed to bring everything into sharp focus like it had never been before. For the first time, I actually listened as I changed - hearing the bones and joints popping, the tendons and muscles creaking in protest, my breathless sounds of pain I couldn't suppress. I knew there were times my heart would stop, and I would stop breathing, but those moments were still too traumatic to my body for me to be aware or remember. I just hoped it was not as bad as I feared it was - I did not want to scar Dean's psyche forever. Not any more than it already was, anyway.

When it was over I lay still, trying to get my bearings. I heard Dean's voice much closer than I remembered him being, it was getting to be a habit. "_Fuck_, Ren. Are you okay?"

My voice was not yet cooperating so I nodded, tiny movement sending a wave of vertigo washing over me as my brain tried to catch up with the changes. I pushed myself up on trembling arms and opened my eyes to see Dean moving to wrap his flannel shirt around my shoulders. I reached one hand out and grabbed his wrist as I finally found my raspy voice, "I'm all wet from the shift, it'll get your shirt all yuck."

His voice was soft, but his tone left no room for argument, "Yeah, you're all wet from the shift and you're going to freeze to death if you don't cover up. You've lost a lot of blood and after what you just went through I don't even know how you manage to function after you change."

I smirked as he pulled the soft cloth around me, angling it so I could slip my arms into the sleeves without too much movement and buttoning the front closed for me. "Good thing you didn't see the one I did in the tub then," I teased and immediately wished I hadn't as his eyes widened, then narrowed.

"We're gonna go get Sam back, and then you and I are going to have a talk."

That was the second time he'd threatened me with a "talk" and I realized there was really no way I was getting out of the conversation whether it was now or later. Not unless I managed to sneak out while they were each making sure the other was okay.

Because Sam _was_ going to be okay.

"You could've gotten yourself killed back there. You almost _did_ get yourself killed," he growled. The muscles in his jaw worked as he gritted his teeth together.

"I thought you said Sam first?"

"Yeah, but I'm pissed _now_."

"All the more reason for it to wait until later if you ask me." I smiled sweetly, knowing it would nettle him. I wondered for a brief instant, seeing the look on his face, if he was actually going to throttle me.

He scrubbed a hand roughly over his face. "I didn't ask, but yes, Sam first, talk later. If you pull another stunt like that, though, I swear I will kick your ass all over this mountainside."

"You wouldn't hit a girl would you?" I fluttered my eyelashes at him.

The look he gave me could have melted tungsten.

I sighed and winced at the chorus of pains that answered back. "I caught the scent of Sam's blood back at that house, but it wasn't a lot of blood," I said quickly, before Dean could panic over the thought of his brother being seriously injured. "I also found another distinctive smell, which is the one I have been following here." I hedged around the specifics, if I could avoid it I really did not want to go into full detail.

"What, like an after-shave or something?"

"Yeah, something like that. But - "

"Something like that? Ren, what did you smell?"

"Components for a nasty spell, but - "

"What kind of spell?"

"Dean _listen_ to me!" I snapped, trying to shift his focus, "I think the scent trail is just a lure, Sam is the bait for the trap."

"Of _course_ it's a trap! You just figured that out bright-eyes? Christ, how do you manage to get through the day if you're not even smart enough to see that?"

I growled low and deep like the wounded animal I was, struggling to resist the impulse to reach out and drive my fist into one of his soft bits. "Not a trap for _you_, you assmonkey! A trap for _me!"_


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Again, many thanks to my overworked beta. I've made some executive decisions based on some of her suggestions, so any and all remaining errors/oddities are mine alone.** **To those of you still reading, I can't thank you enough for sticking with me. ::love::  
**

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**Chapter 9:**

**v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v**

Dean sat back on his heels looking stunned. My anger quickly gave way to guilt - I had endangered them both. It was my fault Sam was suffering untold horrors and Dean was upset and hurting over the loss of his brother at his side. I dropped my face into my hands and fought back the tears that threatened to fall. I was sore and exhausted and now my emotions were getting the best of me. What a pathetic excuse for a warrior I was.

"Hey," Dean's voice was low but his tone was sharp. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a comforting hug, almost costing me my struggle against the tears. "Hey, none of this is your fault, you hear me? Even if this is about you, you didn't make them take Sam. Whatever they've done, they did because they wanted to, because they're evil sonsabitches. This isn't your fault." His big hand rubbed long strokes up and down my back.

My instinct was to pull away, it was so ingrained in me to never show weakness. But on the other hand, it helped to know he didn't hate me.

Taking a deep breath, I shifted away enough to look up at him. I knew what I had to do next, but I was not sure how he was going to react.

"You okay?" he asked, and I had to look away as I nodded. He still amazed me - such a hard life to live being a Hunter but his concern for others was not diminished by all the horrors I was sure he had seen.

"I should take a look at those gashes now that you're back in your own skin again."

I pulled up the flannel he had wrapped around me and his eyes widened then quickly flicked away. It took me a second to register why.

"Sorry," I said, dropping the shirt back down, "I forget sometimes."

"Forget what?"

"I was born into a human family. Some of us are apparently bigger aberrations than others." I cringed at the bitterness in my own voice. "I was six when the clan adopted me. Living around other shapeshifters for so long, those of us born to humans kind of have to learn be comfortable being naked in front of others." I could see in his eyes the thoughts careening through his head.

"Because you have to strip to change and you change back naked anyway."

"You don't _have_ to undress to change, seams will let go before any permanent injury happens usually, but it can be cumbersome trying to shuck the remains and painful until the seams _do_ let go. Plus it plays hell on the clothing bill." I smirked at him.

"So you're perfectly comfortable just walking around naked?"

"Yes."

"And it wouldn't bother you if we strolled around in the buff?"

"No."

I could see him trying to process that and he finally just shook his head. I decided to have mercy on him.

Given that the shirt was designed to fit his much taller frame, there was ample extra fabric to tuck the front tails over myself and still have enough to lift the edge so he could see the injuries.

I figured I could fill him in and tell him what I planned to do without him freaking out if he was focused on something else.

I was wrong.

"You obviously know that was another therianthrope back there."

"One of yours?" he asked without looking up.

"No, they have an established territory." It felt strange saying "they" and not "we", but I had lost the right to claim a place with them. A fact that still stung deeply, despite the knowledge that I had done the right thing.

"There are smaller bands of nomadic groups," I pressed on. "Some have only one or two members, but we are more inclined toward living as packs for safety. There are a few larger groups who are more at home roaming than confined to houses. Some of our stories claim they were once Gypsies, but I'm not sure how true that is. The way I see it, there are two possibilities here. Either my..." I caught myself, correcting my words and my thoughts as I went, "the Mejore changed his mind and has put a bounty on my head, or they heard what happened and want to force me to serve them."

Dean's head snapped up, "Serve them?"

I wrinkled my nose, disgusted that I shared the same species with them. "Some of them are more animalistic than others. Some are worse than animals. They take the family bonding of a wolf pack and bastardize it. Where a wolf pack loves and protects all its members, right down to the lowest Omega, these bastards turn those with the lowest status into their slaves. They do all the things the others consider themselves "too good" for."

"Such as?"

I shuddered at the thought. I knew it went as far as being forced to kill anyone or anything that was considered a threat to their pack, including humans and others of our kind. I didn't want to get into that right then though.

I knew better.

"Doesn't matter. The point is, if this is what I think it is and they want me, I can go to them and try to negotiate for Sam."

"Wait, are you talking about trading yourself for Sam?"

Sometimes I wish he was actually as dumb as some people think. "Yes. I can tell them I will stay with them if they let him go."

"No."

"Dean - "

"Not just no, but _FUCK_ no! There is no way in hell. Even if I were okay with that, and I am not even in the same _zip code_ as "okay" with that, Sam would never forgive any of us for letting that happen."

"Dean, it's not like we are trading an innocent bystander for him, I am trading myself for his life."

Dean sat for a moment, staring at me with his mouth agape. "Are you out of your mind? You are _not_ trading yourself for him, so you can just stop talking like it's a done deal!" he yelled, suddenly animated. "And what the hell do you _mean_ it's "just" you? You think your life doesn't mean just as much as anyone else's? What if we can't get _you_ away from them after they let Sam go?"

It was my turn to be struck momentarily speechless. "Dean...there would be no getting away from them. I would be bound to them until I die."

"Unless there's a price on your head, then you'd just be dead," he snarled. "Forget it, not happening, and I don't want to hear another word about it."

I bit my tongue and nodded at him. He stared at me hard, scowling. I struggled to maintain eye contact and keep my face impassive.

"You're not sneaking out tonight after I go to sleep either, even if I have to tie you up and sit on you."

I arched an eyebrow at him, daring him to try it. The look on his face left me with no doubt he would. To further emphasize his point, he darted his hand out like a laser guided missile and poked one of the bruises left by the harness just hard enough to make me flinch.

Dean leaned in close, "You have bruises and cuts you don't even know yet that you have. I saw them when you shifted. Don't make me hurt you to save your life." His voice was low and calm. Experience had taught me that Dean is deadliest when he is calm. I knew if I pushed it and he had to hurt me to restrain me, he would be beating himself up for it forever. Then again, if he somehow managed to stand by and do nothing while I possibly got myself killed he would hate himself. Either way, I would be hurting him.

I sighed and nodded. "Fine."

"I want your word."

"Fine, I promise." I hedged.

"You promise _what_?"

Dammit, I really hate when people demand specificity in semantics. "I promise I will not sneak out after you fall asleep tonight and exchange myself for Sam."

I could see him trying to work through for any possible loopholes beyond the obvious one. I had given my word for tonight and he knew I would not break it.

Tomorrow was another matter entirely.


	10. Chapter 10

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**Chapter 10:**

**v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v**

"We don't have much daylight left to us, but I don't need light to follow the scent trail," I began cautiously as he pulled the first aid kit from the pack.

Dean sighed, shaking his head, and turned tired eyes back at me. "Do you really think killing yourself shifting back so soon would be helpful at all?"

It was hard not to bristle at him. I knew he was right and I hated it. I knew I'd had to shift to tell him what I knew, but I wondered if I should have waited until closer to dark so I could have stayed on their trail longer.

"Don't." Dean said, reaching for the suture kit.

"Don't what?" I asked, feigning innocence.

Sharp green eyes flicked to me then back to the needle he was threading. "You know what. Just. Don't."

I sighed and wondered when, and how, he had managed to get an all-access pass to the inside of my head.

"Besides, I'd rather not be trying to stitch you back together by firelight _and_ through all that fur."

I snorted inelegantly at him and was graced with one of his trademark smirks. I had to smile at that.

"Let's just get you stitched up and find a place to bunk down for the night. Then we can come up with a game plan."

Needle threaded, Dean dipped it into an alcohol swab packet to disinfect. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gently maneuvered me onto my back despite my growling at him that I could do it my own damn self.

"Just hush, tough girl. Those are pretty deep and you don't need to be wrenching yourself around and getting them bleeding again." he admonished, balling the sleeping bag under my head.

I wanted to bitch about being coddled, but he was right. If nothing else, it sure hurt less than it would have if I'd had to engage my strained muscles to lower myself down. So I bit my tongue.

Literally.

"What else do you know about these feral packs?" Dean asked as he pulled out a jug of holy water and started carefully irrigating the deep gashes. The other therianthrope's claws were certainly not the cleanest weapons ever and Dean had to dig more than one foreign body out of the wounds. I breathed deep to stave off the nausea that was turning my stomach inside out from the pain.

I couldn't help but think his description of them as "feral" hit the nail on the head. I knew he was trying to distract me from what he was doing, but he also needed any information I could give him. I felt the needle bite into me for the first of far too many stitches and tried not to flinch as I spelunked through my memories for details.

"Not much more than what I've already told you."

"Any idea how many they would need to have before they'd feel confident enough to try something this ballsy?"

"Grabbing Sam? If they had a couple males - "

"No, not just that," Dean cut me off. "I know you're stronger than most humans. I mean all of it. They had to grab him, keep him subdued, they know damn well we are coming for them. So how many do you think they would need to keep him restrained and think they have enough left over to take me out and get you to submit somehow?"

"Well, if they got the drop on him, a couple females could have taken Sam down, but with his height they would have still had a hell of a time moving him." I clenched my teeth and hissed in pain as he closed a deeper section of one of the claw wounds.

"Sorry," Dean said softly, his eyes flicking up to mine for a second. "So two to three to take Sam down, could you tell if our skydiving friend back there was one of them?"

I thought about it for a second, sifted back through the sense memories my canine form had logged. "Not really. They knew leaving the other scents would mask their own and lead us...me...down the wrong path."

"You did the best you could with the information you had. If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't even have made it this far."

Hearing those words from him, I wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and die. "If it wasn't for me, Sam wouldn't even - "

"_Don't_ say it."

"Dean - "

"I'm serious. Don't say it. Don't even _think_ it. You need to stop beating yourself up over everything."

I snorted. "Oh, I do? Would you like to be the pot or the kettle?"

"Hey smartass - you really wanna antagonize the guy who's sticking you with a needle?"

"You're already jabbing a needle into me, how much more could you possibly do to me?" I bit the inside of my cheek to ward off my smirk, keeping my face straight as possible.

His green eyes bore into mine. Mischief and danger glinted sharply through the worry that haunted his face. "I could always stitch those lips of yours together, get myself a little peace and quiet for a change."

I couldn't help it, I had to laugh. "You just try it, baby boy, see what it gets you."

Dean laughed and, shaking his head, bent back over his first aid ministrations.

"So two to three for Sam plus or minus the Flying Wallenda back there." Dean got us back on topic before resuming the stitching.

"We'd have to figure they would want the same number or more for you as they have for Sam. If they have any info on you two, they should know it'd take an army to keep you from him."

"That puts us around seven or eight right there, unless they have him caged somewhere and can just send the same ones out again." Neither of us really wanted to think too deeply on how many ways they could keep Sam under minimal supervision. "Safest to go with the higher estimate either way. We can probably assume they'd want at least that many more to put _you_ down and keep you there, right?"

"Not necessarily," I answered, then cringed. I knew he would want me to elaborate.

As expected, he lifted his head to look me in the eye again. I felt like he was looking straight through to everything I was not sure I had words for.

"Not necessarily? I know we've never arm wrestled, but I'd be willing to bet you could give either of us a run for our money at the _very_ least."

I squirmed under his close scrutiny. "Dean, I mean if they have both of you, then..." I did not even know how to put it into words.

Thankfully I didn't have to.

"If they have both of us," his gaze softened, "you wouldn't put up much of a fight if you thought letting them take you would keep us safe."

I couldn't meet his eyes - I was afraid of the condemnation I would see there for my weakness.

"Ren, I'd rather we all go down fighting than have to live knowing someone sacrificed themselves for us."

I nodded. I would not want to live with that either, but I also couldn't live with the knowledge that I had not done everything in my power to save someone. Dean, of all people, would understand that, but I didn't want to argue with him right then.

"We both go in after Sam, we all come out together," Dean said. I still could not meet his eyes so I nodded again. "Ren," there was a sharpness to his tone, compelling me to look up at him, "do I have to make you promise?"

There was no way I was going to be locked into another promise. I clenched my jaw and shook my head.

Dean stared at me hard. "Then say it."

"Fine, we both go in and all come out together. Now will you get back to playing seamstress with my hide? It'll be dark soon and I'd rather you didn't stitch your flannel to my hip because you can't see what you're doing."

Dean laughed and, with a flourish, went back to stitching my wounds again with a syrupy, "Your wish is my command."

"Now who's the smartass?" I grumbled.

"And we're back to the pot and the kettle again."

**v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v**

We bedded down under the protection of a rocky outcrop located just under a huge tree. The branches still bore enough foliage to provide a little additional cover from the elements.

As I expected, Dean suggested we share the sleeping bag. Our combined body heat would help fend off the nighttime chill. With the amount of blood I had lost, we both knew it would feel much colder to me, though neither of us actually mentioned that aloud.

I figured it was also his way of trying to put one over on me. Dean put me on the inside, under the outcrop far enough that I would have no way to creep out without waking him.

At first I was offended, thinking he didn't trust me to keep my word. The more I thought about it, though, I realized it was really no different than any motel room we had stayed in. Dean was always closest to the door.

Ever the protector.

So I shut my mouth and rolled with it. Let him save my pride and his own. I was okay with that.

We were both exhausted and agreed the planning should probably wait until we had gotten some rest. He was worried sick about Sam. I was worried about both of them, and I felt like I'd been through a meat grinder. Pain alone would have been more than enough to keep me awake. Sometimes being an empath sucks beyond words.

But sometimes it can be a very handy thing.

To hear Dean talk of it, you'd think Sam was the only one with nightmare issues. I wasn't sure even Sam was aware of the breadth and depth of Dean's nighttime horrors. I wondered sometimes if Dean's "grumpy 'til my third cup" was just his way of deflecting the attention away from how exhausted he still was when he woke after a night filled with bad dreams.

I heard his breathing change first. Deep and even turned to shallower and more erratic. I stayed still, hoping it would pass quickly. The first twitch followed by a tiny whimper put that hope out of my head. Whatever Dean was dreaming, he was stuck in it. I gently laid my hand on his arm - the last thing I wanted was to startle him awake, though that would certainly have solved the nightmare problem. He needed rest.

I was debating how to help him when I heard him whisper _Sammy_ and I knew what I had to do. Like I had in the car, I reached for that part of me that allowed me to feel what others were feeling. A few deep breaths to find some calm center in my own sea of emotions and I opened myself up to him. Fear and loss washed over me. I let it blend with the calm and comfort I was feeling toward him and sent it back over him like a fluffy blanket. I wanted to protect him, and I pushed that into the mix until there was no more room for the fear and loss. Warmth, safety, comfort.

Dean settled and seemed to finally be sleeping deeply. Completely drained, I finally tumbled past the pain and into the dark abyss of slumber.


	11. Chapter 11

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**Chapter 11:**

**A/N: So here we are, nearing the end. I'm thinking probably one more chapter and then maybe an epilogue depending on how well I can wrap things up in the next chapter. Thanks to my friend and beta TMATEOTB for her patience and encouragement as I inundate her with half a dozen chapters from half a dozen different stories at a time. You should be sainted my friend. All remaining errors are my own.  
**

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I jerked awake to a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. How ya feeling?"

Confused, I blinked up at where Dean was knelt beside me. How had he managed to get out of the sleeping bag without waking me? Dawn had come and gone while I apparently slept deeper than I ever had. That thought alone scared the shit out of me.

Seeing my confusion, Dean smirked down at me. "No, you're not slipping - you had a hell of a day and you're exhausted. Besides, I can be stealthy when I have to be,"

Smartass.

I slid out from under the outcrop toward him and sat up carefully though I couldn't hide a flinch as my body protested. Everything still hurt, but I did feel better for having slept. When Dean reached out to help me up I shrugged him off before he could touch me. As I got my feet under me to stand, though, his jaw clenched - without a word, he grabbed my arms and helped pull me up. I winced as my hip protested painfully and I could see his sharp eyes assessing the state I was in. It was obvious he wanted to say _something_, but I wasn't sure he even knew what to say at that point.

I wished I could hide the limp as I made my way to where everything but the sleeping bag was piled. I eased myself down and started to reach for my pack. Out of nowhere, Dean produced a steaming cup of coffee. While I was still trying to piece together my shattered wits to ask where the hell he'd gotten it, he dropped a bag of the jerky into my lap.

"Bon appetit!" he beamed sarcastically, then turned to roll up the sleeping bag.

I tried to muster up a glare, but ended up laughing and calling him an asshole instead. I had to grudgingly admit that he had won that round in our little battle of the wills. He had wanted me to eat the jerky instead of the dog food in the first place and, now that I had shifted back to human, I had to.

"You're just mad you lost," Dean gloated.

I snorted, "Don't get used to it there chuckles."

We both sobered as I savored my coffee and he finished hooking the sleeping bag to the pack.

"Has it been long enough for you to shift again?" He watched me carefully, undoubtedly watching for signs of a lie.

I nodded and changed the subject as I munched on some jerky. "We don't really know what we are getting into here. Maybe we should come up with a plan."

Dean shook his head, "We _don't_ know what we are getting into, that's just the problem. We could waste time coming up with plans that may or may not work, or we can just get moving, figure out what we are up against and come up with something then."

I didn't like the idea of running in blind, but I knew Dean didn't either. The choice had been taken from us at the start. Now all we could do is make the best of the situation we had found ourselves in.

"Let's have another quick look at the maps and see if they show any place nearby where a large number of people can hide while holding someone Sam's size captive," Dean said, pulling them out of the zipper baggies they were packed in.

As he was laying them out I had an idea. I wasn't sure it was a good one, or what he would say, so I didn't voice it.

I wasn't quite sure what I even thought of it. It wasn't something I had ever tried before.

I had always used my empathic ability on targets who were nearby to know what they were feeling. I could use my gift to help calm or soothe, or I could use it to influence their emotions in other ways.

I had never tried to reach out for anyone who was farther away, but that did not mean I couldn't. Theoretically at least. I knew I still had to shift, which would take a huge amount of energy. I had avoided using my empathic gift through this ordeal, worried it would deplete my reserves too far to allow me to shift. I figured it would be worth the effort to at least try since we were hopefully getting close. If I could reach out and feel where Sam was, it would take a lot of the guesswork out.

Hopefully that was all it would take out.

Dean was intent on the maps. I took a breath and closed my eyes. I was exhausted still, it was so hard to focus the way I needed to. Even pushing past the pain to find that piece of myself was grueling. I felt my body start to shake, a fine tremor, and tuned it out.

I could feel Dean's worry - could finally see that it wasn't just Sam he was worried about. I put that in the box with everything else I had filed away for future contemplation and reached farther out. I thought of Sam, of his distinctive energy pattern. I cast the empathic net as far as I could, trying to home in on that spark. If I could just reach far enough to feel him, we would at least have a direction to head in.

Suddenly I felt like someone had stuck a knife between my eyes. The pain was so bad it took my breath away, robbed me of my concentration.

As I opened my eyes, I became simultaneously aware that Dean's hands were gripping my biceps tightly and there was blood running from my nose.

"What the _hell_?" he barked out as he grabbed the collar of the flannel I was still wearing and pressed it to my nose. I closed my eyes and he gave me a gentle shake with the hand still holding my arm, "No passing out on me here. What the hell just happened?"

I opened my eyes again, but couldn't bring myself to look at him. "It was nothing." I sounded like I had a head cold with my nose blocked off the way it was. I pulled away and swiped at my face, hoping the bleeding had stopped.

"Yeah, that looks like nothing to me," he growled sarcastically.

I flinched, realizing I was still open to his emotions. I took a breath and closed that off again.

"I thought maybe if he was close enough I could reach out for him, but I'd never tried it on someone who wasn't nearby before. Did you find anything on the maps?"

I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eye, but watched him from the corner of mine. Dean stared at me hard for a moment and I could see him adding a box to the list for our "talk" later.

"I had to try."

Dean sighed. "I know you did. If you're done bleeding all over the place again, I think I may have found something."

He pulled the maps over in front of us and showed me a couple locations that had caught his attention while I tried to pull myself together again. It felt like time was running out and we were both itching to get moving.


End file.
